


VI

by DashFlintceschi



Category: All Time Low, You Me At Six
Genre: M/M, Mentions of past self harm, Suicidal Thoughts, soul mates, tattoos lead you to your soul mate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 14:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3696278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DashFlintceschi/pseuds/DashFlintceschi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where tattoos appear from your seventeenth birthday onwards, leading you to your soul mate, Alex sinks deeper and deeper into depression with each tattoo, believing himself unworthy of a soul mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	VI

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Red](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2549381) by [rememberingsunday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rememberingsunday/pseuds/rememberingsunday). 



> No idea why it came out so depressing, but I might write another, happier one, or a happier sequel later.

Alex sobs when he sees it, the small, swirling VI that appears on his left hip on the afternoon of his seventeenth birthday. He had always hoped that he would never get any tattoos, he was always so sure that he wasn’t worthy of a soul mate, that he didn’t deserve one, but there it is, two tiny letters, or possibly Roman numerals, that are his worst fear.

As the years pass, more tattoos appear across Alex’s body. A trick or treating skeleton on his left forearm, and a silver and blue butterfly below it cover his scars; a pair of crossed drumsticks with a microphone through them, like an X with a line through it, behind his right ear; swirling purple words in a language Alex doesn’t recognise appear on his side, and after _a lot_ of research and help from his bandmate, Rian, it turns out to be Corsican, and translates to _‘You’re just someone to the world, but you’re the world to someone’_. Alex locks himself away and cries for a few hours when he sees that one. A small red devil straddling a cannon appears on the inside of his ankle; his entire back is taken up by a phoenix, surrounded by flames, which twist and curl into the letters ‘DBNO’ across the bottom of his back; and the last one, which almost kills him, is a red rose on the back of his left hand. It’s gorgeous, and he loves it, until he notices that the edges of the petals are letters, his soulmate’s initials, but then he sees it, two sets of initials, DDF and JJAF, not one soul mate he doesn’t deserve, but two. Alex locks himself in the back room of the tour bus for days, doesn’t eat or sleep, and contemplates cutting again for the first time in years. They have to cancel almost a week of shows, but Alex doesn’t care, he’s numb, empty, and no-one knows what to do.

Alex slips into a routine of necessity after that. He plays shows, plasters on a smile and acts like his old self for the fans, eats because his bandmates force him, sleeps when his body can’t take the strain anymore, and wallows in his misery when no-one’s watching, desperately hoping he dies before his soul mates are forced to put up with him. When the tour ends, Alex has every intention of going home, crawling into bed, and letting himself die, but of course, his bandmates know him too well, and Zack and Jack insist on staying with him and taking care of him. He finds himself irrationally angry about that, the first thing he’s felt in months, the anger due fifty percent to that fact that they won’t let him die already, and fifty percent due to their stupid matching tattoos. They don’t openly flaunt their love in front of him, they never have, but Alex knows it’s there, and he fucking hates them for it.

They somehow keep him alive, barely, until the next tour three months later. The Spring Fever Tour will see them zig zag across the lower 48 over the space of a month with Pierce The Veil, Mayday Parade, and You Me At Six, a band his bandmates seem to be quite good friends with, if their starry-eyed gushing is anything to go by. When Alex hears their name, he thinks of the small VI on his hip, but quickly shakes the thought away when it seems to choke him.

All of the bands have their own tour buses, except You Me At Six, who insist on doing the tour in a van, so Alex manages to avoid contact with everyone except his own band and crew for the first week and a half of the tour. They’re in Philadelphia when it happens. Alex is wallowing and avoiding people until sound check, when someone raps on the door of the bus. He waits for someone else to get it, but when several minutes pass, and the person raps again without anyone appearing, Alex huffs out a sigh and drags himself to his feet. He slides the door open with a dejected huff, but his breath catches in his throat when he realises the most beautiful human being he’s ever seen is smiling up at him.

“Hi, somehow we haven’t met yet, I’m Dan, You Me At Six’s drummer. Our stupid van broke down, is it cool if we chill in here while we wait for the new bus?” His voice is like cool silk to Alex, with the smooth, cultured tones of the Home Counties, but with a roughness to it that makes Alex’s stomach clench, and all he can do is nod dumbly. Dan grins, all straight white teeth,and one crooked one that Alex finds oddly adorable, and crinkly eyes, and Alex has to remember to breathe as Dan calls over his shoulder to his bandmates.

The five of them pile onto the bus as Alex staggers back to the couch, hearing their light, happy chatter but not taking it in as he tries to figure out what the fuck is happening to him. His first thought is that it might be an aneurysm or something, and he might finally be allowed to die in peace, but then he realises that the ‘symptoms’ are only there when he looks at Dan, but also his bandmate, the lanky one with the bright blue eyes and hair that looks like he stuck his finger in a socket, Josh, he finds out his name is, from listening to them.

He tries to ignore what’s happening to him, tries to focus on the five Englishmen around him, and he almost succeeds, until Dan leans over, holding out a lighter to Max, and Alex sees it, a tattoo on the back of Dan’s left hand, a tattoo of a _rose_ , and Alex feels horrified and sick and dizzy and elated all at once. It makes his head spin as he staggers to his feet, ignoring their concerned questions as he throws himself towards the back of the bus. By the time he slams the door of the back room behind himself, locking it as he collapses against the wood, he’s hyperventilating, trembling and sweating as he fights the bile trying to climb up his throat. He sinks to the floor and curls up in a ball, cradling his head in his arms as he rocks back and forth and sobs brokenly. This wasn’t supposed to happen, ever.

He ignores endless attempts from both You Me At Six and his own bandmates as they try to get in, try to get him to talk to them, try to get him to do anything to let them know he’s ok. Finally, it’s Rian that gets through to him, sinking to the floor on the other side of the door and speaking softly, only just loud enough for Alex to hear.

“You don’t have to say anything, you don’t have to move, or do anything, if you don’t want to. I just wanted to let you know, I saw the roses on their hands, and I understand. We’re going to reschedule the show, and any after it that you need us to, and we’ll be here, if you need us.”

Rian’s genuinely surprised when he hears the lock slide open, and the door cracks, just enough for him to see Alex’s pale, tear stained, miserable face, and Rian’s heart breaks for him.

“What d’you mean, ‘their’ hands? I saw Dan’s, who else…?” He trails off, and Rian bites his lip.

“Josh has a rose on his hand, and even if he didn’t, they know they’re soul mates, have done since the first tattoo appeared,” he tells him softly, and Alex sighs, he kind of knew, he’d felt the same weird feelings towards Josh as he had for Dan.

“They think I’m a fucking psycho, don’t they?” He whispers miserably, and Rian sighs.

“No, of course they don’t, they’re worried, and they think they did something to cause it, they just wanna know you’re ok, and that they didn’t do or say anything wrong,” he reassures, and Alex sighs.

“I can’t face them, I can’t. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to die miserable and alone before they ever had to put up with me,” he laments, and something in Rian snaps.

“Fuck it, I can’t take you putting yourself down anymore. I’m telling them, and hopefully, they’ll be able to find the words you need to hear,” he announces, ignoring Alex’s pleading as he gets to his feet and marches to the front of the bus.

When Josh and Dan approach the door that Alex has been using as a shield, they expect to find it locked, especially when Alex’s soft, broken sobs echo through the wood. Their hearts ache for him as Dan slowly opens the door, fully aware Alex could still be behind it.

He isn’t behind the door, and when it’s open far enough, they creep in, worried they might somehow upset Alex more. They find him curled up in the corner of the couch, sobbing into his knees as he tugs on his hair. He knows they’re there, but ignores them, until they sit down on either side of him, and Dan’s fingers trail gently down his back, and Alex can’t help the low, desperate keening noise that slips out of his throat. He wants them there, needs desperately to cling to them and have them tell him everything will be alright, but he can’t let himself ruin their lives by being in them.

“Oh, love,” Dan sighs softly, collecting Alex’s gangly frame into his arms and pulling him onto his lap, holding him tightly as he rocks him gently. Josh scoots over and holds Alex from behind, rocking with them and joining Dan in whispering soft, comforting words. Alex struggles to get away from them, but they hang on tighter, and he just doesn’t have the strength to fight them.

“Don’t, I’ll ruin you, I’ll make you hate me, please, don’t hate me,” he chokes out, and they hold him tighter, their hearts breaking at his pain, and the fact that they don’t know how to fix it.

“We could never hate you, sweetheart. All we want is to love you, just let go, and let us love you,” Josh whispers desperately, pressing his face against Alex’s shoulder. Alex tries, for the first time, he really tries to look past every insecurity and trace of self-hatred, and let himself be loved, and a sudden sense of calm washes over him. He’d heard about it, heard so many people talk about how, even when they were at their worst, being held by their soul mate made everything better. He’d never believed it, ignored it as ridiculous, romantic bullshit, but he sees it now. He’s far from cured, all the things that have been poisoning his mind, slowly killing him, are still there, but they don’t seem as heavy, as suffocating as they once did. They both sigh quietly in relief as Alex seems to melt in their arms, letting himself lean against Dan’s broad, solid chest, and desperately praying it’ll always be there for him to lean on.

They’re quiet for a while, until Josh raises his left arm and turns it over, so the tattoos on his forearm are visible.

“We always wondered what it meant, the butterfly,” he comments softly, and Alex sighs, tracing his finger over the purple and gold butterfly that matches his blue and silver one. He steels himself for the conversation that he knows they need to have, and turns his own arm over, exposing the butterfly, and the scars beneath it. He hears them both gasp in shock, but keeps his eyes on his wrist as he speaks.

“I always cut that wrist, never anywhere else, just there. I think they appeared there because something, somewhere knew I’d never be able to harm anything so beautiful,” he explains softly, and he can feel their eyes burning into his skin, can feel the weight of the words that are coming, and he changes the subject. “So, the Roman numerals are for your band, then, yeah?” He can feel their disappointment, and he knows it’s a conversation they need to have, but he can’t do it now, not yet, so he plows on. “And the drums and microphone, they make sense now, too. What about the devil and cannon?” He asks, and he knows they still want to have that conversation, but his question throws them off.

“Devil and cannon?” Dan asks curiously, and Alex raises his leg, tugging up the leg of his jeans to show them his ankle. They both laugh, and Dan traces the tattoo with his fingers, making Alex shiver slightly.

“They’re the logos of our football teams, the devil for Manchester United, the cannon for Arsenal, I take it you’re a Baltimore Ravens fan?” Josh replies, and Alex nods, laughing as they show him their ankles, Dan’s with a raven perched on the cannon, Josh’s with a raven on the devil’s shoulder.

They talk through their tattoos, finally understanding the meanings of them, after so long wondering. The VI is for their band, and they have All Time Low’s skull and crossbones in the same place; the Halloween themed tattoos are for their shared love of the holiday, Josh’s is a Grim Reaper rather than a skeleton, and Dan’s is a werewolf; the tattoos behind each of their right ears are obvious, Alex’s drumsticks and microphone, Dan’s guitar and microphone, and Josh’s drumsticks and guitar are clearly meant for the instruments they play; Josh explains that his family is Corsican, and the words are song lyrics, and they show Alex his own lyrics, _‘Got my heart in your hands’_ scrolling down their sides; the phoenix and letters ‘DBNO’, Josh explains, is ‘Down, But Not Out’, Josh’s mantra and the name of his clothing line, he isn’t sure, but he’s always thought that that’s how a phoenix is when it’s reborn, it’s down, but it’ll always rise from the ashes, stronger than ever. Alex likes that analogy. The rose needs no explanation, their initials entwined with the flower of love says it all. 

Alex knows the road ahead is going to be bumpy, that there will be other days like this, when they have to save him from drowning in his own misery and self-doubt, but for now, things might just be okay.


End file.
